


last christmas i gave you my soul, sanity, and heterosexuality

by kerrykins



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-22 13:50:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17060963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerrykins/pseuds/kerrykins
Summary: This year, Runway is holding a gift exchange for the holidays. Andy is Miranda's Secret Santa, and has no clue what to get for her.This story is for my dear friend Para, who has recently had a traumatic Secret Santa experience. I hope your recovery from that hellish exchange is going smoothly. Happy holidays!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Parasite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parasite/gifts).



“Alright everyone, I’m passing the hat around. Everyone pick one name and-- No peeking, Miranda!” Nigel admonished.

 

Andy turned around to see Miranda scowling as she flicked a scrap of paper back into the hat with resignation. “Nigel, is this really necessary?” 

 

The bald man nodded vigorously, his face solemn. “I mean, that is how Secret Santas work. Also, my name isn’t in there yet because I knew you were going to try to choose it.” The editor rolled her eyes, and withdrew a different name, unfolding it carefully. Her lips quirked for a moment, but it disappeared quickly. Andy saw it though.

 

When it was her turn to pick a name, she rummaged around in the hat, selecting a piece of paper. Andy eagerly opened it, and her eyes went wide.  _ Miranda _ , it read, in slanted cursive.

 

She went home that day grinning ear to ear, excited at the prospect of getting a gift for Miranda, someone she knew better than she did herself. This would be easy as hell. Andy frowned, acutely aware of one tiny problem.

 

What could you get for the woman who has everything?

 

_ I’ll figure it out eventually _ , Andy thought to herself. Since she didn’t have to deliver the Book tonight, she had plenty of time to brainstorm ideas for gifts. Even if she spent the entire night panicking and second-guessing her choices, she still had a solid two weeks to figure something out.

  
  


Andy groaned. This wasn’t working out well. She had just wasted countless hours perusing Amazon, unsure what to get. None of them seemed good enough. A suitable gift for someone as sophisticated and gorgeous as Miranda would be diamonds or pearls, but Andy’s meager paycheck couldn’t allow her to do that.

 

Running her hands through her hair, she opened her contacts, scrolling through them. Maybe one of the designers, jewelers, or companies that Runway had ties to would be able to assist her. 

 

Nothing, really. James Holt would be desperate enough to help probably, as he’d been blacklisted from Runway’s pages for one line of particularly atrocious casual wear. Andy doubted Miranda would appreciate a gift from him, as she had referred to his designs “uninspired, hideous, and ostentatious.” Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.

 

Accepting defeat, she shut off her phone and crawled into bed. It was a while until she slept, stress superseding her fatigue.

  
  


Andy woke up at five to the sound of her alarm, and with much effort, she pulled herself out of bed and got herself ready for work, inhaling her breakfast of fruit and yoghurt, and hopping into the shower. 

 

She tore through her morning routine, but put care into her hair, makeup, and outfit. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice, as either Nigel, Emily, or Miranda would comment on it if she didn’t look presentable.

 

Andy checked her compact mirror again to ensure she didn’t have any flecks of mascara on her face, and once she had, she grabbed her bag and headed out.

 

In the taxi, she made a call to Starbucks so she that Miranda’s coffee would be ready by then, and resumed her search for her Secret Santa gift. Andy sighed and stowed her phone back in her bag, highly disappointed and a little pissed off. All of the options were still totally inadequate. It had been a whole ass day and Andy was no further than she was yesterday when she drew Miranda’s name from that hat.

 

As the taxi began pulling up to the Elias-Clark building, Andy took a deep breath, trying to placate herself. God forbid she have a mental breakdown in the office, Miranda would no doubt have her head on a stake.

 

Once she had paid her fare, she stepped out and toddled over to Starbucks, and then the Elias-Clark building.

 

Unsurprisingly, Runway was bustling with activity, everyone scrambling to prepare the office for Miranda’s arrival. 

 

“Ten minutes!” Emily yelled over the calamity. “Ten minutes until she gets here! Bloody hell, Marcia, get that clothing rack out of the way, Miranda hates it when there are things in the way.” Her voice was shrill and the redhead sounded on the verge of hysterics, her dark blue eyes wide with fear. 

 

Andy waved at her weakly, and the first assistant huffed as she strided over to her. “And where have you been? Miranda’s bound to get here any second now and you need to get the--”

 

“The Givenchy fragrance samples? I got them. Also, I have Miranda’s coffee, as well as one for you.” The brunette extended her arm, offering her a cup. Emily narrowed her eyes at it in suspicion. “If you don’t want it, I’ll just throw it away,” Andy added.

 

“No sense in letting it go to waste, I suppose,” the redhead muttered under her breath, snatching it from Andy’s hands deftly. “This does not make up for the fact that you’re late. Go.”

 

“Go where?” One of Andy’s new favourite pastimes was seeing how much she could annoy Emily. Today it was even easier than it usually was.

 

Emily wrinkled her nose in irritation. “To meet Miranda, for fuck’s sake! You know how she expects one of us waiting there to receive her directions.”

 

“Why can’t you do it?”

 

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Emily snapped as she fumbled with a stack of shoeboxes. “I don’t have the time to explain everything in terms your simpleton brain will comprehend. Now get out.”

 

Andy stifled a laugh and began running down the hall, although not with the same fervour Emily did.

 

As the brunette raced across the office, she skidded to a stop in front of Miranda, nearly colliding into her. 

 

Piercing eyes scruntinised her through dark tinted lenses, and her lips were pursed. “There you are. I need you to find me a new facialist. Lola’s health is declining, and she’s retiring. Do something about those emails I keep getting from that gossip rag, I’m not interested in being on the front cover. Heaven knows I’ve graced it so many times already, and unwillingly at that.” 

 

Andy nodded as Miranda continued to rattle off directions, tearing through the office like a hurricane. Runway employees would start down the hall, then immediately turn the opposite direction once they caught a glimpse of a peeved Miranda.

 

“Tell Catherine that I regrettably won’t be able to have lunch with her, I have another meeting with the board.” She curled her lip into something that resembled a snarl, her brilliant blue eyes glowering. “Irv again.”

 

Andy grimaced. Despite the fact that his first attempt last year to oust Miranda had failed, he persisted. He was continuously wasting Miranda’s time, which was Elias-Clark’s time, which was also his time.

 

“I don’t need to cancel your lunch, I’ll go instead,” Andy offered.

 

Miranda’s lips quirked upwards, and she removed her sunglasses, gazing at the brunette intently. “No, Irv had demanded that I attend this one, since I conveniently wormed my way out of the last one.” She shook her head as she slipped a lock of silver hair behind one ear. “It’s a nice thought, though, Andrea.” She held out a gloved hand and Andy placed a Starbucks cardboard cup in it.

 

Miranda sipped it, looking mildly placated. She tapped a finger against the cup thoughtfully. “I also need something for that ridiculous Secret Santa gift exchange Nigel devised.” She rolled her eyes, and Andy smiled faintly. Miranda seemed just as thrilled about it as she did. The brunette fumbled with her phone, opening her contacts. She always tried to be one step ahead of Miranda, and she assumed she’d be calling Molly, Miranda’s personal shopper.

 

The editor gave her a bemused glance before drawling, “No, that won’t be necessary. I’m fetching it myself.” Andy tried not to let her jaw drop. “O-oh, okay. Sorry.” Miranda only shopped for the twins, or the occasional gift for a work colleague. To her pleasant surprise, the older woman did not reprimand her for her miscalculation, and instead looked amused. “It’s fine.” 

 

Andy beamed at this, but Miranda went back to hurling orders at her, and the brunette began frantically taking notes again.

  
  


Andy enjoyed waiting for the Book. Well, now she did. When she was dating Nate, all she could focus on was getting home before midnight. But now, it was a time for quiet contemplation.

 

She had her notepad in hand, and pen in her mouth, still struggling with Miranda’s gift. It hadn’t been so complicated with Nate. Andy would just have to go over to Macy’s and buy whatever was on sale on the appliance floor. She didn’t put much thought in because she didn’t need to, and she didn’t particularly want to, especially the last Christmas with Nate.

 

But Miranda was not Nate. She was never impressed, and incredibly demanding.  _ Well, that last part she and Nate had in common _ , Andy thought to herself, chuckling a bit. The only conclusion she’d come to was that a material gift was not on the table. It’d have to be something-- you can’t really buy, as Miranda was capable of buying whatever the hell she wanted. A favour?

 

Andy performed favours for Miranda all the time. That was her job after all, as a personal assistant. But this would be one that she’d be doing of her own accord instead of-- No actually, she did a lot of stuff for Miranda without her asking.

 

This would be one that really mattered. That went beyond a sense of duty to an occupation, but a sense of duty to a friend. Friend... Andy rolled her eyes at herself. There was no way Miranda considered her a friend, she didn’t even have any.

 

It was an obligation to Miranda’s happiness instead of Miranda’s position at Runway.

  
  


A whole five days gone. Andy checked her phone to make sure she was right. Yup, it was already December 6th. Time always seemed to move at a glacial pace, expect for when you actually needed it to. 

 

Andy wasn’t totally lost like she was that first night, but still didn’t know what to do. At 3:00 AM, she had pondered asking Miranda directly what she had wanted, but once she was fully awake she snorted at how ludicrous it was. One, you never asked Miranda anything, and two, it was just a stupid thing to do. So Andy decided to do the next best thing, which was to ask Nigel.

 

“For the love of God, please help me,” Andy pleaded, her voice cracking in despair. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and if I have to spend any more worrying about this, I’m going to lose my mind.” Nigel looked up from his proofs, raising an eyebrow quizzically. “Lose your mind? Listen up Six, you sold your right to sanity the moment you walked through the gates of hell. Hell being the doors of Runway.”

 

“Haha, I know. But will you help me, beloved fairy godmother?” She pouted, sticking out her lower lip. Nigel shook his head, but later threw his hands up resignedly. “Fine, I guess. It’s difficult to say no to a five year old.” Andy grinned triumphantly. There was still hope. “Thanks, Nigel, I really appreciate this.”

 

“Mhm. Okay, so here’s my advice. Just get rid of Irv, I think that’s all Miranda wants out of life right now.” Andy rolled her eyes and Nigel burst into uproarious laughter. “I came here seeking actual advice.”

 

“And I gave it to you,” Nigel quipped unhelpfully as he handed her a bulky folder. He pat her on the back reassuringly. “Best of luck, dear. Don’t let La Priestly tear you to shreds, I’ve invested far too much time in fixing your atrocious wardrobe for it to go to waste.”

 

“Gee, thanks.”

  
  


Since Nigel couldn’t help her, Andy decided to help herself. By watching Miranda and trying to fathom what someone like her could possibly deem an acceptable gift. “Andrea,” Miranda called brusquely. Andy was at her side at the blink of an eye. “Yes, Miranda?”

 

The editor absently toyed with her reading glasses against her cheek. They clicked as Miranda tilted them to one side. Andy watched her for a moment in fascination before a soft murmur of a voice made her jump. “Andrea, do pay attention. What are you looking at?”

 

“Um.” Andy tore her eyes away, focusing on the ground instead. Her face burnt. “Sorry, I-I was just uh--”

 

“Quit that stammering, Andrea, it’s tiresome,” Miranda grumbled with an eyeroll. “As well as the fumbling, the profuse apologising, and the lack of eye contact.  _ Look at me _ when I’m speaking to you.”

 

Yikes. She was in a really foul mood today. Andy forced her eyes to flicker up to meet those bright, blue eyes that seemed to bore into her. This was one of Miranda’s stupid challenges, wasn’t it? A test. The brunette stared back steelily, and after a moment, Miranda eased in her seat, looking impressed. With a low chuckle, the editor dismissed her with a “That’s all.” 

 

That was all Andy could think about for the rest of the day.

  
  


It was yet another late night, where she was expectantly waiting for the Book to arrive. 

 

Only this time, Miranda was there with her. The editor rarely lingered around the office anytime past eight, spare for the few occasions where she had a late-night conference or had to chat with someone that lived in a different timezone. 

 

But tonight, Miranda was doing neither. Instead she was typing away on her laptop, face rapt in concentration. She was silent, with only the occasional derisive scoff or the irritated slamming on her hands on the keyboard.

 

Though she didn’t ask for it, Andy went on a small excursion to Starbucks across the street, and got them both coffee. When she stepped into Miranda’s office, the editor jerked her head up from her work and glared at her. Beyond tired and done with Miranda’s bullshit for today, Andy made her way to the desk, dropped the cup down, and left the office without a word. Andy resumed reading her novel, only vaguely aware of Miranda’s eyes on her.

 

An hour passed, and out of the blue, Miranda remarked, “It’s getting late. You should be going home.” Caught off-guard, Andy didn’t think before she spoke, her brow furrowing in confusion.

 

“Why?”

 

“Why?” Miranda mocked, then rolled her eyes again. Andy wondered how many times she did that a day, and if it strained her eyes. “Because it’s getting late, Andrea. I despise repeating myself.”

 

“I just don’t have anything else to do,” Andy replied slowly. “If I go home, I’ll just end up shoving my face with ice cream and watching movies.”

 

Miranda looked repulsed by the idea, her face scrunching up slightly. Of course she would, indulging in dairy products and wasting time was a double nightmare for her. “I see. Don’t you have some kind of boyfriend or something like that?” She said it with such disgust, the way one might ask, “Is your home infested with cockroaches?”

 

Andy blinked, surprised that Miranda even knew that. “I used to, but we broke up before Paris. It was necessary.” She immensely disliked the fact that the last part came out so cold, and sounded so unlike her. 

 

The editor nodded in acknowledgement as she moved the cardboard sleeve of her cup up and down. “All good things come at a cost, Andrea. You must know that. It’s impossible for someone to really have it all.” She shrugged, and the noncommittal gesture seemed strange for Miranda.

 

Andy stared at her curiously. “So in your opinion, happiness and success isn’t possible?”

 

“It’s not my opinion, it’s a fact.” Miranda said flatly, 

 

“Do you speak from experience, or--”

 

“You are asking far too many questions.” The older woman sounded wary. “Kindly cease with your interrogation.” Andy bit her lip, realising she had crossed an invisible line. “S-sorry.”

 

“Mm.” Miranda slipped on her reading glasses and her eyes were trained on her computer screen instead of Andy. “That’s all.”

 

The brunette reluctantly went back to her desk and buried her nose in her book again. Only this time, she wasn’t actually reading it and kept sneaking glances at Miranda. 

 

The older woman let out a breathless sigh as she stretched in her chair, back arching languidly and elegant neck exposed. Andy watched, but hastily pulled her book up to her face again when Miranda scowled in her direction.

 

Andy stumbled into work even earlier than she usually did, because why the hell not? To her immense disappointment, Starbucks was not open at 5:00 AM.

 

She prepared herself for he worst as she pressed the elevator button, awkwardly standing in the lobby as she waited. The elevators tended to move really slow, especially in the mornings, and Andy decided to respond to a few emails regarding London Fashion Week. It was in a little less than a month.

 

As she began typing out something to one of the people in charge of the seating chart, she heard the all-too-familiar sound of heels clicking violently behind her. Oh god, why was she here so early? Composing herself, Andy greeted Miranda with a forced but radiant smile. “Good morning, Miranda.”

 

The editor was wearing a thick fur coat, her sunglasses, and had the Book tucked under one arm, looking beautiful but also really pissed off. “Why are you here so early?” She echoed Andy’s thoughts perfectly, narrowing her eyes.

 

“Oh, I don’t know. Why are you here?” Andy asked innocously, powering her phone off and tucking it back into her purse.

 

“I don’t need to give you an excuse. However, I would like to hear yours.” She arched an eyebrow at her questionably. “Hm, Andrea?” There was a visible gleam of jest in her eyes, though it was darkened by the glasses she wore.

 

“Well, I didn’t have anything else to do.”

 

Miranda’s mouth twitched. “That seems like your reasoning for everything.”

 

“I mean, it is. But it’s also the truth.” The editor tapped her lips pensively, and looked like she was about to say something when the elevator chimed. Elevator, singular. 

 

Andy stepped out of the way so Miranda could take it, but the older woman rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea.” 

 

A firm hand made its way to Andy’s shoulder, and she stiffened as Miranda ushered her in. In the elevator, Miranda did not let go, and instead glared at the doors, as if silently ordering them to hurry up. It was a fairly long ride up as Runway was on the top floor, and Andy felt herself began to sweat. Shit, there went her nice Chanel dress. At this rate, not even the dry cleaners could fix this.

 

Andy didn’t dare say anything, because Miranda was so quiet, she could barely hear her breathe. And she assumed it would be safest to just follow her example. Once they reached their floor, Miranda casually strode out as if nothing unusual had just taken place, and Andy followed, still in shock.

  
  


Miranda never touched anyone. Maybe she’d accidentally bump elbows with someone at a gala, or her fingers would brush against someone’s as they handed her something. But purposeful touching that was more than just a brief caress or push? Very peculiar. Andy couldn’t say she hadn’t enjoyed it, because that would be a lie.

 

She loved it. Her shoulder tingled pleasantly for the rest of the day, the warmth and security of Miranda’s hand long gone from her shoulder, but still enveloping her thoughts.

 

Andy was running out of time. Eighteen days until Christmas and she had been so distracted and flustered and tired she could barely think straight.

 

It was a real problem, and she was having trouble completing her work.

 

When she had delivered the Book to Miranda’s home a couple nights ago, she came across the older woman sitting cross-legged in a chair, wearing a black silk robe with matching lace lingerie. 

 

To say it revealed some cleavage would be a massive understatement, and Andy had lost the ability to form coherent speech. Andy had stammered a “h-have a nice night” and hightailed it out of there. 

 

She absolutely refused to believe that Miranda always wore La Perla lingerie all the time. Because if so, Andy surely would have noticed earlier.

 

There was also that other time yesterday. It was raining heavily, and Miranda had come into the office looking very disgruntled, her always immaculate silver coiff slicked back by the water and her dress clinging tightly to her skin. With trembling hands, Andy had helped her out of her wet clothes and was in a paralysing state of shock and horror for the rest of the day.

 

But today, today had been the worst of all. Miranda had been letting her ride up the elevators with her. This time, the editor had kept her hands to herself. 

 

But when Andy was rummaging around her purse for her phone, she’d accidentally brushed a hand against the curves of Miranda’s chest, which were on full display with that impossible neckline. Miranda hadn’t rebuked her, but her face had gone a dark shade of red and was deathly silent the ride up, while the brunette blurted at least eight different apologies. She hadn’t looked at Andy once all day, and made Emily deliver the Book instead.

 

Andy was liberated for tonight, but it wasn’t as great as she thought it would be. How was she supposed to relax when all she could think about was, “What’s Miranda doing now?”  _ Goddamnit, _ Andy thought to herself. _ Nigel was right when I signed over my soul and sanity to the Devil when I started this job. _

  
  


Andy was busy finalising some things for Fashion Week when the phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, noting that it was the twins. Miranda had gone out for lunch, and Emily, who had more experience with Miranda’s daughters, was busy fetching some skirts from the Closet. 

 

The brunette sighed and answered it. “Miranda Priestly’s office. Hi, Caroline and Cassidy.”

 

“Hi.” Two voices chorused. “Is Mom there?” One of them inquired. Andy smiled warmly. Hearing them refer to Miranda as “Mom” was kind of adorable, even if it felt unfamiliar to Andy.

 

“No, she’s out for lunch right now with Irv, but she should be back soon. I can leave a message for her if you want, though,” she offered politely.

 

“We can talk to you,” another voice chimed in, a bit harsher than the other. It was likely Caroline. “Isn’t Irv that dumbass who keeps trying to get Mom fired?” Andy grinned.

 

“If you mean the one that looks like a toad, yeah.” There was snickering on the other line. Feeling emboldened by this, Andy continued to chat with them, and when Miranda strolled in from her lunch, the brunette was still talking to the twins. The older woman looked annoyed, like she was about to lecture Andy about how personal calls weren’t permitted.What Andy said next over the phone made her eyes widen impossibly, and she whatever biting words she had on her tongue disappeared.

 

“I don’t think you have much to worry about. If Irv somehow managed to replace your mom, the Elias-Clark company would do something about it. Runway can’t survive without her.” Miranda peered at Andy inquisitively.

 

“I guess you’re right,” Caroline huffed. There was a fumbling noise which signalled the phone being handed over to Cassidy. “Can you take care of Mom for us?” This young girl sounded uneasy. “You guys are friends, right?”

 

“Y-yeah.” Andy gulped. Miranda was still staring at her, and it was really unnerving. “I’ll do my best, Cassidy.” The twin seemed satisfied with her answer. “M’kay, thanks. We have piano practice now.” She hung up on Andy, and the brunette chuckled at how abruptly the call had ended. The twins must get it from their mom.

 

“Those were my girls on the phone,” Miranda said, appearing oddly calm. She had left her coat and bag on Emily’s desk instead. “What did they say?” The editor pressed a bit of her weight on the desk, and the brunette instinctively leaned away. Get too close to the sun, you burn.

 

“Not much,” Andy lied. “Except that they have piano practice now instead of at 7:00, and asked if they could have mac n’ cheese for dinner.” 

 

Miranda tilted her head at Andy, her bright eyes sparkling with something indecipherable. “Alright.” They regarded each other silently, before Miranda broke it with, “I’m leaving you in charge of decorating the building for the holidays.” 

 

Andy’s jaw dropped. Of course Miranda would just casually drop a bombshell like that. Runway’s holiday decorations were always very intricate, required a great deal of meticulous planning, and usually designed by the art department in their limited free time, with the first assistant organising it. 

 

“Um-- I--” Miranda quelled her babbling with a pointed look, arching an eyebrow. “That’s all.”

 

Andy gaped at her in shock. “Is there anything in particular you want, or--”

 

“No, you make all the decisions,” Miranda said emphatically, tapping one leg of her sunglasses against the palm of her hand. “Once you have a plan drafted, I will not look at it. I expect you to just do it, and ensure that it is up to my standards.” Miranda rolled her eyes at Andy’s baffled expression. “You know what I like.”

  
  


“Well done, Six,” Nigel remarked with a nod as he passed by her in the hall. Andy froze at this, and jogged backwards. “Wait, what?”

 

He sighed. “Oh please, spare me the bullcrap. Everyone knows that Miranda put you in charge of the decoration project. Congratulations.”

 

“So? What’s the big deal?” It was an important undertaking, but then again it mostly involved bossing the art department around.  _ Which included Nigel _ , she realised with a start.

 

“Six.” His face was somber. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of this situation. Emily was supposed to lead the project this year, but Miranda chose you instead.” He raised an eyebrow. “Welcome to the town of Miranda’s Good Graces. Population, you.”

 

And like that, he walked off with a smirk, leaving Andy stunned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not really pleased with how this turned out, but oh well.

 

Andy was drowning in work. Christmas was only two weeks away, and the editor had decided to push up this month’s publication date to before then. So Runway had been a whirlwind of papers, clothing racks, yelling, and her feet ached from running around the city all day.

 

She had gotten her Book privileges back, and Miranda started to stay until the office even later than Andy did.

 

Today had been especially chaotic, and taken a toll on Miranda. Andy had caught her resting her head on her desk for a moment in sheer exhaustion. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast earlier this morning, deeming lunch and dinner as a waste of time.

 

Andy hesitantly dropped her coffee and a bag of scones from Starbucks on her desk, and the relief in Miranda’s eyes was obvious. Not evening waiting for Andy to leave the room, she tore open the back and devoured them ravenously. The brunette tried to make it look like she wasn’t watching, even though she was. Once Miranda had finished, she glared at Andy and snapped, “That’s all.”

 

The brunette frowned, noticing the disheveled silver curls and bags under Miranda’s bleary, blue eyes. “Are you okay?”

 

“No. That’s all.” Miranda slammed her laptop shut violently.

 

“But--”

 

“I said,  _ that’s all _ , Andrea.” She pinched the bridge of her nose exasperatedly, letting out a heavy sigh. Andy bit her lip but didn’t leave. “Sorry.”

 

Miranda pursed her lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Andy’s forehead scrunched up in confusion at this, but her entire face went slack after what Miranda said next. 

 

“Out of all the nuisances in my life,” she drawled. “You are the least bothersome.” She pressed a pen against her lips thoughtfully. If she noticed that Andy’s face was as red as a radish, she didn’t comment on it. 

 

“Everyone believes that the holidays are a valid excuse for disappointing work.” Miranda rolled her eyes. “In fact, this month is likely one of the busiest of the year. There’s the pressure of getting the next issue out before Christmas, and having to finalise things for London Fashion Week.” 

 

“And to top it all off,” Miranda sighed. “That Secret Santa event that Nigel is running.” Andy smiled knowingly. “Yeah, it’s been rough for me too. I still don’t know what to get.”

 

Miranda’s lips quirked. “Mm. Do you have any ideas?” Hey, this was small talk. But Miranda hated small talk. 

 

Andy blinked. “Oh no, not really.” She laughed nervously. “See, I just don’t know what they’d like.” Miranda gave her another one of those endearing head tilts. “And what will you accomplish by doing nothing?”

 

“Well, I’m gonna assume you haven’t gotten anything for yours yet either.” Andy grinned from ear to ear when the editor huffed irritably. “It’s just that work has been a bit busy lately.”

 

Wow. Miranda’s specialty was probably downplaying really intense and nerve-wracking occurrences. First the hurricane, now this.

 

“That’s true,” Andy offered halfheartedly. “Have you gotten gifts for the twins yet?” At this, Miranda bristled, probably because the editor hated it when her personal and professional life intersected. “Why?”

 

“I was thinking about getting them something small, but I wasn’t really sure what they’d like,” Andy babbled. “Considering they’re your kids, they probably get really nice presents all the time, so maybe not. Do they like video games? Because if they do, then--”

 

Miranda laughed airily, and Andy felt a warm, tingling sensation wash over her. She’d seen her laugh before, but they were forced, or mean ones at other people’s expense. This one was rich and genuine, and the editor’s eyes crinkled at the corners.

 

“They’d appreciate anything, Andrea. Especially if it was something terribly commonplace. They’re always whining that they never get to have any Cheetos and only caviar, or that two Nintendo Wii consoles are not entertainment enough.” Growing up, Andy wasn’t even aware luxuries like that existed. The twins were pampered, but she had a feeling they weren’t exactly spoiled. If only she knew more about Miranda and her daughters.

 

“Maybe I’ll get them one of those ugly stuffed animals from the dollar store,” Andy joked. Miranda’s eyebrows shot up at this, her eyes glimmering with mirth. “God no. If they happen to be the ones with the obnoxious polka dots, I’ll cremate them.”

 

“I’d think they’d look excellent on February’s cover, once we get them in Versace gowns and style their hair. A little bit of foundation goes a long way.”

 

“True, but I think they’ll need a bit more than that. I believe a makeover is in order.”

 

“You mean like the makeover Nigel gave me?”

 

“That was different, Andrea. You already had everything you needed, but just needed a push in the right direction.”

 

Her heart skipped a beat. What the hell did Miranda mean by that? She was about to ask, but decided that would be an unwise decision. The editor might just clam up again, or make some snide comment on Andy’s stupidity. 

 

The phone rang at that moment, and Andy sighed ruefully. She had just wished that it had happened after she and Miranda had finished their conversation. Their talk had been-- friendly. 

 

“Well, that phone aren’t going to answer itself, Andrea,” Miranda sniffed. “Go.” She waved her off, and Andy smiled to herself as she walked out, an extra spring in her step.

  
  
  


Andy’s good mood hadn’t lasted long.

 

“What?” Emily gaped at her, looking torn between being furious or devastated. SHe slammed her hand violently on Andy’s desk, but the brunette didn’t flinch.“M-Miranda’s put you in charge of the Christmas project?” Her voice came out squeaky and tremulous.

 

Andy nodded weakly. “Yeah. I don’t want to, though. Miranda just told me to do it.”

 

“Oh, bollocks,” Emily growled, her face turning a garish shade of crimson. “You-- God, the whole Paris incident was awful. But this, this is unacceptable. You don’t deserve it, at all. Must you ruin my life not only one, but two times? You’ve always been Miranda’s favourite, always will be. But this was my year, my project, and I have been looking forward to this for two years. You can’t do this. Miranda can’t--”

 

“I can’t do what?” A familiar, icy voice inquired. Miranda had seemingly teleported to the desk, giving Andy a nod of acknowledgement before turning her attention to Emily. Her gaze was steely. Andy’s eyes flicked nervously from one woman to another. Miranda was probably going to chew Emily out, and right in front of her desk. 

 

Miranda crossed her arms, sneering at the senior assistant. “I have assigned Andrea this project because she has proven herself to be marginally more competent than you. You yell incessantly, and run about the office like a chicken without its head. If you were in charge of such a massive undertaking, you’d simply collapse, becoming just a flimsy sack of bones.” 

 

Both her assistants stared at her in horror, but Miranda left with a breezy, “That’s all.” 

 

Andy swallowed, noticing the tears that welled up in the redhead’s eyes. “Emily, I’m so sorry, I--”

 

“Don’t.” The redhead threw her a glare that was loaded with hatred before storming away. Andy just watched her leave helplessly.

  
  
  


Andy was running late to her own meeting. Sure, it was 10:00 PM and she’d just woken up from a two minute nap at her desk. But if the art department didn’t berate her for it, Miranda would. 

 

The brunette’s stomach clenched unpleasantly. She’d come too far for Miranda to be disappointed in her. Emily had stopped speaking to her, and Nigel was slightly wary of her, which unsettled Andy. Being the only citizen in the town of Miranda’s Good Graces was lonely.

 

Those two were rightfully upset, Andy wasn’t even sure how so much had happened so fast. It seemed like yesterday when Miranda called her the “smart, fat girl.” Now she was riding up in elevators with the editor, a privilege that Miranda had never granted to anyone, not even Irv or any of her superiors.

 

God, this was a disaster. So many deadlines ticking nearer and nearer, and everyone hated her. Andy tried to calm herself down and even her breathing before pushing past the glass door to the art department down the hall. 

 

A group of people were assembled around a tall table, and Andy grimaced. They greeted her with expressions of annoyance, curiosity, and disdain. Nigel offered a small wave.

 

“Hi, sorry I was a little late,” Andy apologised with a forced smile. “So, does anyone have any ideas?”

 

\---

  
Andy flopped into bed on her stomach, groaning softly. It was 1:00 in the morning, and she was too tired to remove her makeup, change out of her Runway clothes, or do anything else really. Heavy eyelids fluttered shut of their own volition, and her last fleeting thought before she drifted off was,  _ I still don’t have Miranda’s goddamn gift. _


End file.
